


everybody needs a little help from time to time

by kingdele



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Eric is a big idiot, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, dele is a big softie, this is mainly focussed on Eric but dele is v supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-05 18:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17924243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdele/pseuds/kingdele
Summary: eric needs help, but doesn't know how to ask for it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> most of this is based on personal experience and is vaguely self-projecting.

It all started in the middle of December. He woke up the day before the Champions League match against Barcelona not feeling himself. His head felt spacey and he still felt tired. He’d woken up from a 9 hour sleep feeling more exhausted than he felt when he originally went to bed. Eric had felt like this a few times throughout his teenage years but his family always just put it down to his fluctuating hormones. He didn’t have an excuse or a reason now. He hadn’t done any more extensive training than usual that would explain the physical exhaustion he was feeling. He’d just woken up feeling like shit. Realising he had a job to do and places to be, he forced himself into the shower, before making his way to the training ground where everyone was meeting before travelling to the airport. He was dreading the journey to Barcelona because Eric was not in the right mind frame to be stuck on a bus and plane with a bunch of children in their mid-twenties for god knows how many hours.

 

When he arrived at the training centre, the bus was already parked up, ready for the players to get on. Eric went over to the lady stood to the side of the bus, checking players off on her list once they’d boarded the bus. Eric wanted to get on the bus and go back to sleep as soon as possible, even though it was 11am by the point. He walked straight to the back of the bus and pulled his hood up, resting his head on the window. Eric was just drifting back to sleep when he heard Dele’s loud arrival onto the bus. He groaned, knowing he wasn’t going to get any peace and that Dele was 100% going to come sit down next to him.

 

Eric, however, was mostly wrong.

 

Sure, Dele came and sat down next to him, but as soon as he took one look at him and saw how exhausted he looked, he softened his voice and asked “Hey, what’s wrong with you today?”

 

“Just feeling really tired Del.”

 

Dele took pity on him and lowered himself down in his seat, low enough for Eric to rest his head comfortably on his shoulder. Eric gave him a weak smile and took the opportunity. He fell asleep to the feeling of Dele gently stroking his beard.

 

*****

 

The airport was only an hour drive from the training centre, not giving Eric enough time to have a satisfying nap. At least that’s what he told himself when Dele woke him up because they had just pulled up at the terminal and he was still exhausted. He walked through security in a daze, the process coming to him as unconscious actions. He somehow felt worse now than he did when he first woke up. _Must be a bug that’s going around_ he thinks to himself. He didn’t want to let the medical staff know he wasn’t feeling well as it was such an important game for them and he wanted to be part of it. He didn’t want to travel all the way to Barcelona for no reason, especially when all he wanted to do was be under his duvet away from the world.

 

He was so zoned out he didn’t realise Dele had come up behind him until he put his hand against his lower back, jolting Eric back into reality.

 

“Eric. You sure you’re just tired? You might be coming down with something.” Dele then started fussing over him like a mother, causing a bit of a scene checking if he had a temperature.

 

“Del. Stop I’m fine okay I just didn’t sleep well.” Dele didn’t need to know this was a lie and he’d had over 9 hours of rest. “Once we get to the hotel I’ll have a proper sleep and I’ll be right as rain. Ok?”

 

“Maybe you should let the medical staff know, just in case. I don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”  He’d already started pulling away from where he was stood with Eric to go speak to the medical staff. Eric reached out and grabbed Dele’s arm to stop him walking any further.

 

“Please, Dele. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to be left out the team for no reason.”

 

Being the eldest of the ‘younger siblings’ (his elder brother and sister had a large age gap between themselves and Eric) he was always the one who took care of people. He never liked to bother people with his problems, used to being the caring big brother. It was times like this he wishes he was able to let someone take care of him and listen to his problems. In his eyes, there was always something more important.

 

*****

 

As it turned out, Eric travelled for no reason. When they arrived in Barcelona, they headed straight to the Nou Camp to familiarise themselves with the stadium and pitch and to do a bit of training so Poch could see who was best to play the following day. Eric was so exhausted his head wasn’t fully in training so it came to no surprise when he was told he wouldn’t be starting and would be on the bench instead. It wasn’t the end of the world to Eric as there was still a chance for him to play. But after spending the full 90 minutes sat on the bench, unable to help the team. He was quietly angry at Poch for dragging him all the way to Spain for this game when he was feeling like complete shit (not that Poch even knew he was having any problems) and not even playing him. He didn’t need to shower after the game so he quickly got changed and boarded the bus that was headed straight to the airport. He didn’t understand why he was feeling the way. His team had just made it through to the next stage of the Champions League and all he can do is feel bitter and angry about not having his own involvement and for having to attend the match rather than stay at home. He’d never been a selfish person and his behaviour was confusing him.

 

When he boarded the plane, he went and sat on his own, putting his belongings on the seat next to him so no one could come sit with him. He kind of wanted to be comforted by Dele but at the same time wanted to pretend everything was ok. He was sat on his own with his earphones in listening to some Portuguese music trying to ground himself – to try and snap himself out of this weird mood and to bring back who he truly was – when he received the notification saying Dele had started a live video. Now he was definitely glad he didn’t have Dele sat next to him knowing that if Dele was here, he would be bombarding Eric with banter and questions which Eric was not in the correct headspace to be responding to, especially not on camera.

 

He was completely focused on his phone when he felt the presence of someone else. It startled him slightly and he flinched round to see Dele standing there with his standard shithousery grin on and pointing a camera his way. Eric was so startled and exhausted he just looked at the phone camera blank expression before smiling, mostly at Dele’s face.

 

“You not got anything to say? Not even hello?”

 

“What?”

 

“Not got anything to say.”

 

In all honesty, he didn’t have anything to say. He just waved at the camera instead and Dele turned it away while shaking his head. Eric huffed out a small laugh at his reaction.

 

It was then he realised he needed Dele around him for him to feel normal.


	2. Chapter 2

4 days later, he woke up in the early hours of the morning in severe pain and covered in sweat. He rang the team medics instantly and they determined he needed to go to the hospital straight away. He knew he couldn’t drive himself there and didn’t want to bother any of his family members this early in the morning and none of them lived that close to him anyway so he asked if one of the medics could stop by and pick him up.

 

Once he got to the hospital, the doctor quickly realised he had appendicitis and needed urgent surgery to remove his appendix. Despite the pain he was in and the panic around him, the only thing that was running through his head was that he was out of the team for at least a month. He was supposed to be at Wembley playing Burnley that afternoon and here he was in A&E about to go in for surgery. Something in the back of his mind told him he was letting the team down which sent him into a spiral of panic. The medical staff around him assumed he was panicking about the prospect of the surgery and he didn’t have it in him to correct them. He really needed Dele with him right now to run his fingernails along his scalp and tell him it’s all going to be fine but he didn’t want to jeopardise Dele’s chance to start against Burnley so just suffered in silence again.

 

*****

 

When he came round after his surgery, it was several hours later than what he last remembered. He was still in the post-op room so didn’t have any of his belongings on him. He was desperate for his phone right now to see if Spurs had said anything regarding his condition. When the nurse noticed he’d woken up, she came over and asked how he was feeling and if he needed any more painkillers. He surprisingly didn’t feel any pain in his abdomen considering he’d just been cut open and stitched back together. Eric didn’t have to wait much longer for the porters to arrive to take him up to a private recovery room. Normally when players got injured they went to specialised private hospitals but as this was such an urgent problem and he didn’t initially have a diagnosis, Eric had been taken to his local A&E, therefore the team medics had arranged a private room on a ward so he wouldn’t have any chance of catching any other illness from other patients.

 

When he was wheeled into the room, he picked up his phone from the side cabinet and checked his notifications. The first one he noticed was a text from Dele which he’d only received 10 minutes ago.

**Dele:** virus???????

 

He opened up the Twitter app and saw that the Spurs social media team had posted a tweet saying he was unavailable due to a virus. Eric assumed the team hadn’t been told about his hospital admittance to not concern them before the game. It was mid-December so wasn’t unusual for him to have picked up a cold or the flu. He then received another text from Dele.

 

**Dele:** knew you were coming down with something  you should let people fuss over you more often

 

Once Dele had said that, Eric realised his weird mood the other day must have been due to his body slowly getting sick. The days after Barcelona, Eric still hadn’t been feeling 100%. He’d been going to training  and was feeling less exhausted but still felt spacey and not fully in his head. His appetite had also diminished in the past few days. It all made sense to Eric now and he did feel like he should let people take care of him more often, he just didn’t know how to ask for help. He also realised that Poch hadn’t told the team the truth about his situation because there would be no way Dele would stay silent in a situation like this. He was about to reply to Dele when his younger brother Patrick knocked on the door and came in.

 

“Out of everyone, you’re the last person I expected to come here”

 

“Haven’t seen me in two years and this is how you greet me? I’m offended.”

 

Both of them laugh and Eric sticks his arms out for a hug.

 

“What are you doing here? Thought you would be in America.”

 

“Do you not check the family chat? Mum’s been asking me about it for days, it’s been planned for months.”

 

Eric didn’t want to tell that he’d muted the chat a few days ago, the notifications making him more and more agitated, as it would only draw questions.

 

“Must’ve missed it, been busy with training and stuff. How come you’ve shown up? Expected mum or Steffi.”

 

“Ever so charming you are. I was the only one free. Both of them are at work an mum demanded that someone come here and see how her little prince was doing.”

 

“Shut up.” Eric grumbled, knowing full well his mum always made an extra fuss over him. ”You better have brought a laptop with you, the TV here only has 10 channels.”

 

*****

 

Watching the team succeed without him again stung. The more he watched them do well without him, the more he told himself he wasn’t needed by the team. Realistically, he knew it wasn’t true but he couldn’t stop the negative thoughts running through his mind. If the team continued to do well while he was out with his injury, he might lose his spot in the starting XI. The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself he wasn’t good enough for the team. During the match, the member of the Spurs medical team who had originally brought him in here, came in and settled down on a chair next to his brother to watch the match. The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his spiral of self-hatred. It was the ward catering staff asking what he wanted to order for dinner and handing him the menu. He wasn’t hungry in the slightest, if anything he felt sick, so said he didn’t want to order anything.

 

“Are you sure? Meals aren’t served for another hour or so, you might feel hungry then.”

 

“I don’t want to order anything. Thank you.” Eric said it with a bit more malice than he intended. The lady took his answer and gave him a small smile before leaving the room. She should be happy she’s got less work to do.

 

“Eric, you’ve got to eat something.” It was the medical staff member this time.

 

“I. Don’t. Want. Anything.” Why do people always have to get involved. He’s a fully grown adult he can decide what he wants to do.

 

“You need to eat. You can’t be taking your painkillers on an empty stomach.” This time it was Patrick with an opinion.

 

“Well when the nurses come round with my medication, I’ll get a banana or something. Happy?”

 

“Fine. Whatever. Have it your way.”

 

The guy got up to leave the room when Eric piped up again and said “I don’t know why you’re so fussed anyway. It’s not like I can eat anything they serve here. It’s probably got so many fats and sugars in them they don’t fit into my diet plan.”

 

He turned back round to face Eric and just rolled his eyes at his bratty behaviour. After he left the room, Eric realised how out of line he’d acted to a senior member of staff. He knew for a fact he’d go back and tell Poch and give him yet another reason to leave him out the team.

 

Eric’s wallowing was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing loudly in the small room. He picked it up and saw it was Dele ringing him. _Here we go._

 

“I am going to rip your big stupid head off your shoulders.”

 

“Well good afternoon to you too Delboy.”

 

“Eric, this isn’t a joke. Poch just told us that you was rushed into hospital this morning with appendicitis and have had surgery. Did you not think to send a message my way?”

 

“I didn’t want to stress you out before the game.”

 

“Fuck the game, you should’ve had someone with you. You on your own now?”

 

“Nah, Patrick’s here with me and-”

 

“The American one?”

 

“Yeah sure, the American one. And someone from the medical team is here with me, he brought me in this morning.”

 

“What hospital are you in? I’m coming over.”

 

“Del you don’t need to. I’m fine now.”

 

“Eric.”

 

“Fine. I’m in Royal Free.”

 

Dele was quiet for a few seconds where Eric assumed he was searching the hospital on maps.

 

“I’ll be there in half an hour ok?”

 

“Fine.”

 

As much as he hated to admit it, he felt a lot better now he knew Dele was coming to keep him company.

 

*****

 

Sure enough, Dele burst into his room 30 minutes later.

 

“I’m going to kill you one day you big idiot.”

 

Patrick looked startled by Dele’s sudden entrance but Eric, being used to Dele’s loud behaviour, was unfazed. Instead he opened his arms wide for Dele to settle in between them. Dele held him tight and rested his cheek on the top of his head while Eric had one hand on the small of his back and one hand on the base of his neck. Proper human contact was what Eric needed to make him feel whole again. When they separated, Dele ignored the spare seat that was in the room and perched himself on the edge of Eric’s bed. It was the Eric remembered Patrick had never actually met Dele. Eric looked over to his brother who was staring back at them with furrowed brows but a slight smirk on his lips.

 

“Bem eu nunca cumprimentar meus amigos assim.” _Well I certainly don’t greet my friends like that._

 

“Foda-se você” _Fuck you._

 

Eric rarely spent time with his family as they were all scattered around the place and were all busy in their own lives. Due to this, they had very rarely witnessed how close Dele and Eric actually were. Dele had only met half of his siblings before and even that was quiet brief. And Eric definitely didn’t speak to them about anything. Dele’s family were a lot more experienced seeing as he lived with his brother so their parents were frequently round the house and Harry was almost always there when Eric was. The thought of having to explain his weird on-the-line friendship made an anxious bubble swell in his chest.

 

“What did he say? Is he talking about me?”

 

“He’s being a dick, thinks he’s funny.”

 

“Why’s he got to speak in Portuguese though, s’not fair.” Dele pouted like a little kid not getting his own way and Eric had the sudden urge to kiss him. It wouldn’t be a first for them, having shared a few drunken and adrenaline filled kisses in the past, but he thought he might give his brother a full-blown heart attack if he did. Eric laughed a little and it sent a shooting pain through his abdomen. He groaned and scrunched his face up in pain. Dele jumped up and shouted at Patrick to get a nurse.

 

“Dele! I’m fine I’m supposed to feel pain I literally had my abdomen cut open!”

 

“That’s why painkillers exist you idiot!”

 

Patrick came back with a nurse who had a small white pot containing a few pills for Eric to take.

 

“Here you are sir. In here is codeine, paracetamol and an anti-sickness tablet. However, you need to eat something before you take them.”

 

“I’m not hungry, I feel sick.”

 

“We agreed earlier that you’d eat when the nurse gave you medication. And there’s an anti-sickness tablet in there so even if you feel sick after eating, that will stop it”

 

Eric just rolled his eyes in response. Even in this position, he hated being told what to do. He was 24 years old and could make his own decisions. Dele placed a hand on his arm and gently run it up and down. Eric noticed the nurse give the hand a quick glance before looking back up at Eric’s face.

 

“Hey, why aren’t you eating?” Dele asked him in his soft voice, the one reserved exclusively for when him or Eric weren’t feeling well.

 

“Don’t wanna.” Eric mumbled back.

 

“You have to eat something, you’ll just slow your recovery if you’re not eating. We need you back as soon as possible.”

 

Lie. As soon as Dele uttered those words his inner voice told him he was lying. The team didn’t need him back. They were doing perfectly fine without him. He hated when people lied to him, especially when it was straight to his face.

 

“How about we go do you a couple slices of toast, something small just to line your stomach?”

 

Dele so obviously cared a lot about him so Eric decided he’ll let Dele’s lie slip and he’ll move on.

 

“Okay, fine.”

 

When Dele left the room, Patrick looked over to Eric and looked as though he was going to ask a question. Eric stopped him before he could open his mouth by raising his hand and saying ”Don’t”


	3. Chapter 3

Since being discharged from hospital he had barely seen anyone. The days between Christmas and new year were the worst for Eric. He’d spent the week rotating from his bed to the sofa. Most of the week was spent horizontal, staring into space. He’d witnessed two more team wins since he’d been gone, a total of 4 games now he’d not been needed in. It was really starting to play on his mind. After the 6-2 win at Everton, he’d switched his TV off instantly and had a sulk. He hadn’t even attempted to watch the boxing day match against Bournemouth, not wanting to torture himself by watching his team not need him.

 

It was during this week Eric realised he had a problem. He was feeling constantly exhausted and unmotivated to the point where he’d forget to eat or wash. He didn’t want to see anyone, he didn’t want to speak to anyone, he just wanted to curl up under a blanket and sleep forever. Still, he didn’t say a thing to any friends or family, not even a small text saying ‘hey I need some help’. Nothing. _It’s no wonder Spurs don’t need you, you’re pathetic._ Eric was unable to stop his own voice in his head from taunting him and couldn’t stop the dramatic negative thoughts from entering his mind.

 

His dogs noticed something was up. _At least someone has._ They were constantly climbing all over Eric no matter where he lay down, trying to distract him by diverting his attention to them rather than him sitting in his head suffering. He told himself that once he was back into training, he’d feel motivated and have a reason to get out of bed.

 

*****

 

He was wrong. He was due back at training on the 3rd. It wasn’t full first team training he was going back into, just some on field rehab with some of the sports science team to see his current fitness levels. The night before he was unable to sleep, thoughts running through his mind about worst case scenarios; from pushing himself too hard too soon and delaying his return to the team to somehow magically ripping his healed stomach wound back open. He spent hours tossing and turning in bed and going down to his kitchen to make cups of tea to try and get his body to sleep. He ended up managing to get to sleep around 4am, but had to wake back up at 7am to have time to shower and eat before starting the hour long drive to Hotspur Way.

 

When his alarm went off at 7, Eric strongly considered calling the medical team saying he wasn’t fit enough to start back at training. He changed his mind and set an alarm for an hour later so he could get in a bit more sleep. He’d just have to sacrifice eating breakfast before leaving for training, he could always pick something up in the canteen before heading out to the pitches.

 

Once he got to training, the state of the training centre represented how his head felt – lonely. As he was training alone on the pitches, he was in training much earlier than the rest of the team and staff members so there was very few people in the building. As he was walking down the corridor his shoes were squeaking on the floor and it was causing an echo. Walking through this empty white corridor was creating feelings of anxiety to build up in Eric’s chest and stomach. He didn’t understand why, maybe because it was the first time being back for a few weeks or if it’s because of the feelings of isolation, but Eric had the sudden urge to cry. He quickly dived into the changing room and threw on his kit, aiming to get out the building as quick as possible. While putting the kit on, he realised that it was slightly bigger on him than when he last wore it. He knew he hadn’t been eating as much as usual but had he really lost that much weight? He made a mental note to pop by the kit man’s office after the session to change his sizes. He was now glad he was in alone as he knew Dele or Jan would make a comment about his change in appearance. Before leaving the changing room, he caught a brief glimpse of himself in the mirror and realised how awful he looked. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair had grown quite a bit and was in the ugly phase between short and medium length and his overgrown untamed beard make him look like a washed up Viking. Safe to say he’d had better days.

 

Out on the training pitch, he was just doing gentle jogs up and down the pitch and getting used to moving with a ball at his feet again.  The running came so naturally to him he didn’t need to think about what he was doing. While running up and down, he became so disengaged with reality, it felt like the world was moving in slow motion around him. He felt like he wasn’t in control of his body and that he wasn’t attached to it. It was such a strange feeling but he didn’t know a way to slap himself back into reality. He just kept going up and down in a complete daze, unaware of his own surroundings. The coach working with him had to throw a ball in his direction to get him to come back to reality.

 

“Is your stomach okay? You’re running a lot slower than usual and you seemed to be completely zoned out.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just getting used to moving about again.” _Why did he say that? Now he’s going to know you’ve done nothing but lie around the past week._

“Of course. Let’s just do some simple dribbling and passing and we’ll call it a day.”

 

Great. Now the coach knew Eric wasn’t as fit as expected, he was definitely going to go straight to Poch and tell him, delaying his integration back with the team even more. Eric continued overthinking what the coach was going to tell Poch and started missing passes and tripping over himself. He heard the coach sigh before saying “Hey Eric, let’s finish up.”

 

Eric had never left the training pitch quicker. As soon as he was told he could leave be practically bolted back towards the building. He shouldn’t have come. He wasn’t ready to be back. He should have phoned in sick and stayed in bed with his dogs again. He felt safe in the confides of his own home. No one could judge him or irritate him there.

 

He had an extremely quick shower before going to see if the kit man was around. He found him down one of the corridors sorting out bibs, presumably for the first team training session. He looked up as Eric approached him.

 

“Hey big man. How you doing?”

 

“I’m doing good thanks.” There was no need to be honest here.

 

“So did you need anything specific or did you just fancy my wonderful company this morning?” Eric gave him a small smile.

 

“As much as I love your company, my kit's too big. Was wondering if I could get some smaller sizes.”

 

“Too big?” His tone irritated Eric. He just wanted to put in a request for a smaller sized kit before going home to wallow. He also wanted this over quickly so he could be off the grounds before the rest of the team arrived. He didn't want questions, questions could make him reveal the truth and that terrified him.

 

“Yeah, just need to go a bit smaller in everything. Thanks.” With that, Eric turned around and headed towards the exit. Once he sat down in his car he noticed a couple of Range Rovers pulling into the car park signalling people were starting to arrive. Eric quickly buckled his belt and raced out the car park, turning the radio off completely because the tinny sounds of pop music made him want to pull his brain out.

 

*****

 

When he opened his front door he was greeted by his dogs bounding towards him and jumping up. He sat down on the floor of his entrance hall and let them run all over him until their excitement calmed down. As soon as it did, Eric took himself to his bedroom. He sat down at the top of his bed where his pillows were rested and stared at the wall in front of him. He’d originally planned to switch on the TV and watch something on Netflix but he hadn’t picked up the remote on his way in and didn’t want to get back up. Instead he started at the blank screen and felt tears fill up his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

8 weeks later, Eric’s life had gone to complete shit. He’d essentially lost his spot in the starting XI and he’d completely shut everyone out.

 

*****

 

When he’d first gone back to training with the full team, his mind was distracted for a while. He felt slightly better now he had some purpose with his day and had routine back, but still something wasn’t right. He constantly felt guilty. He had no right to not enjoy life when he had everything. He had a large family who loved him, his dogs which were basically his children, a relatively large friendship group and a successful career which provided more than enough money.

 

He was eating better now that they had team breakfast but he never had the appetite he used to. Eric was always known amongst the team to eat the most so when his portions got smaller, it didn’t go unnoticed. Jan was the only one to say anything but he was sure the other guys on his table noticed. One morning he pulled him to the side to ask what was going on. It didn’t come as a surprise to Eric that it was Jan who noticed and said something. They’d been close since Eric joined the club due to their similar personalities and interests. Then Eric moved to the same neighbourhood as Jan and they became closer, often having mini dinner parties at each other’s houses and they became even closer. This didn’t mean Eric was comfortable with admitting what was wrong. _He didn’t even know what was wrong._ He didn’t know how to put his feelings into a coherent explanation, he didn’t understand them. The best he could come up with was “hollow” but that didn’t make sense or fully explain it.

 

He wasn’t sure if Dele had picked up on something or if he was just being clingy and joking around a lot because that’s who he is. Dele wasn’t always the best when it came to understanding emotions as he often kept his own buried so deep they mutated into something else. Dele being clingy made Eric realise he was severely touch starved and lonely. Having him close and carrying him around managed to temporarily calm Eric’s mind. He didn’t want to think about what that meant.

 

*****

 

His first game back was against Fulham. Poch wasn’t starting him as he didn’t want to risk overdoing it too soon. Eric wasn’t too mad because he had a genuine excuse to not play him this time. However he hadn’t played a game in over two months and his skin was itching to be back on the field.

 

When he was subbed on for Lamela at the 79thminute, Eric had adrenaline running through his veins and he was ready to prove he was deserving of his place in the team. The current score was 1-1 and his job was to stop it becoming 2-1 to Fulham. Simple task. He was capable of holding them back for the next 20 minutes.

 

All his plans were thrown out the proverbial window 4 minutes later. Dele had to ball and suddenly went tumbling down onto the side lines clutching he back of his left leg. _His hamstring._ It had been an ongoing problem for Dele since Russia after not getting as long as a break as usual. But somehow, Eric managed to convince himself this was his fault. He’d only been on the pitch 4 minutes and suddenly a key player in their team has an injury. All logic and reason was ignored as Eric talked himself into a panic. He could see Dele sat to the side with his head in his hands trying to hide his feelings from the cameras and the people in the stands but Eric knew he was in agony.

 

When Winksy scored the winner in the final seconds of the game, Eric could barely feel any joy. Just emptiness.

 

*****

 

Going into the next game, Eric tried to push aside all his negative thoughts. It was the Carabao Cup semi-final and they needed to win. They were missing Sonny, H and Dele, their main attacking players. If they hadn’t had the 1 goal lead going into it, Eric wouldn’t have even bothered showing up. As long as they defended well, they had a chance of going through to the final.

 

They didn’t defend as well as they should have and it ended up going to penalties. Eric was going 3rdso didn’t have as much pressure as he did in Russia. He couldn’t help think back to his penalty against Columbia. This was a very similar situation, only this time it was his team relying on him, not the whole country. When he stepped up, the teams were level so he needed to score this. He knew the expectation of him was high as the fans had seen what he’d done in Russia and expected him to do the same here. The pressure got to him and he sent the ball flying over the crossbar. He’d fucked it. He knew at this point they were out of the cup and it was all his fault. He’d let everyone down. The past 2 games he’d played something terrible had happened. When Eric went back down the tunnel, he could feel the panic rising in his chest and his breathing was becoming restricted. Instead of going to the changing rooms with everyone else and looking at the disappointed expressions that _he’d caused_ he went and found and empty office room to sit in and cry. This day was the first day he’d considered giving up football all together.

 

*****

 

Now. It was the end of February. Eric hadn’t left the house in a week. Last time he’d gone out was for training ahead of the BVB match and his head had been completely in the wrong place. Poch noticed and pulled him aside and told him to leave training early thinking he may still be suffering from the cold he’d had the previous week when in reality he just didn’t want to be there.

 

He’d spent the past week binge watching shows on Netflix, cuddling with his dogs and considering never returning to football. It was a dangerous thought path to go down but he’d lost his love and passion for the sport. And he didn’t think he was strong enough to handle making mistakes or losing. His teammates had noticed his absence and lack of excuse and were constantly sending him messages asking where he was. After about 2 days, Eric had switched off his phone. Jan had taken it a step further and had come round the house to speak to Eric, only Eric pretended he wasn’t in and stayed silent when Jan was continually banging on the door. He could understand his friend’s concerns but he wanted them to see he clearly wanted to be left alone so why wouldn’t they do that.

 

He was lying on his back on his sofa watching an episode of Brooklyn 99 with Clay asleep on his legs and one hand slowly stroking Cisco who was on the floor next to him when he heard his front door slowly open. Panic run through his body and he froze up, convinced he was being burgled and whoever it was, was going to kill him. It was only when he heard the soft “Eric” be called out he realised it was Dele. _He’d forgotten he had a spare key._ Eric freezing up had alerted his dogs something was wrong and they were both now stood, making soft noises. The noises which told Dele where he was.

 

When he came through the door, his eyes instantly raked over Eric’s form and his gaze softened. Eric wasn’t sure what he looked like but he could guess. He was unwashed, in an old pair of tracksuit bottoms and a massively oversized jumper. He hadn’t trimmed his beard for a long time so probably looked like a dirty sweaty Viking. The only thing that was kept in line was his hair. He’d considered growing his hair longer again but one night he had a breakdown and shaved his head again.

 

Dele came and sat down next to the sofa so his head was in line with Eric’s.

 

“Hey, what’s going on? Jan told me you haven’t been coming to training.” His voice was softer than Eric had ever heard. Eric couldn’t find words to respond to Dele so just kept staring at him. Dele raised his hand and started stroking his beard trying to get a response. It just made Eric crumble. He sat there sobbing while Dele stroked his cheek whispering softly to him.

 

“Eric, come on. Talk to me. What’s going on in that silly head of yours?”

 

“I just don’t want to do it anymore.” He choked out. His voice sounded strangled and he let out some more sobs.

 

“ _Shhh_ Eric. Come on.” Dele forced Eric to sit up and he sat down next to him, pulling Eric into his neck. “What do you mean? What don’t you want to do?”

 

“Just,” Eric paused and took a shaky breath. “I just don’t want to do anything.”

 

Dele signed and pulled Eric tighter, running his hand through his beard trying to calm him down.

 

“Calm down. Calm down. Tell me everything.”

 

So he did. He explains about his feelings of emptiness, of loneliness and of pure self-hatred. He tells how he blames himself for everything that goes wrong and how he doesn’t want to play football anymore. He’s been thinking about leaving England and returning to Portugal. He’s dreams of living in a little house on the outskirts of Lisbon, just him and the dogs. He had to take a few breaks in his story to get his breathing under control while Dele wiped away the few tears that fell and occasionally pressing a few kisses to his forehead.

 

“How long has this been going on?”

 

“Since Barcelona.” Eric admitted sheepishly.

 

“Barce- Eric! That’s nearly 3 months ago.”

 

“Sorry! It’s just everyone was busy with their own lives and I didn’t want to burden anyone with my problems.”

 

“You haven’t spoken to anyone about this?” Eric turned his head into Deles neck and shook it slightly. “Why didn’t you come speak to me?”

 

“You’ve had your injury which I’ve been blaming myself for, still sort of do I suppose. I didn’t want to speak to anyone I just wanted to be here alone.”

 

“Babe that’s really not healthy. You need to speak to someone. Have you considered seeing the team psychologist?”

 

“No. No Dele I can’t do that. The whole senior team will know I’ve been struggling and Poch will keep me benched for longer and I’ll just have to sit back and watch the team succeed without me.”

 

“Ok, breathe Eric breathe. You need to talk to a professional.”

 

“Why can’t I just talk to you. You don’t judge me. You just cuddle me and make me feel better.” He felt Dele let out a small puff of air onto the top of his head signifying a small laugh.

 

“Because, I’m not a professional and I can’t give you proper help. I can support you but I’m going to need you to talk to someone. Please.” Eric stayed silent, contemplating what Dele had said. “If you make an appointment with the psychologist, I’ll come with you for support. How do you feel about that?” Dele had softened his voice again.

 

Eric turned his head upwards to face Dele, “Promise?” His voice came out barely above a whisper.

 

“I promise.”

 

He let out the first smile he’d had in weeks – maybe months.

 

“ _Eu te amo.”_ He pressed a small delicate kiss to Dele’s lips and snuggled back into his side. Maybe he could get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% how I feel about this but its been on my mind and been sat in my drafts for a week so I decided to finish and post. Hope you enjoyed!


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